


Spit it Out

by zebrahat



Series: Spit it Out [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dildos, Draco and Harry are girls, Dubious Consent, F/F, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebrahat/pseuds/zebrahat
Summary: Harry wakes up bound and gagged in the Slytherin dorm room, at Malfoy's mercy.





	Spit it Out

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Draco are female-bodied, with masculine pronouns. It just sort of came out that way.

Harry awoke to the sensation of a blunt pressure against his arsehole, his buttocks instinctively tensing around the slick intrusion. Thick, saliva-soaked fabric filled his mouth, muffling his startled yell. A light sweat broke out on the back of his neck as Harry tried to jerk forward, away from the object - someone’s finger - he realised, as it withdrew to the tip, then pressed back in, deeper. Harry’s eyes fluttered open against the darkness of a blindfold. 

A silent shiver of panic ran through him, as Harry became conscious that not only were his movement and eyesight both almost entirely restricted, but also that he was naked. His arms were stretched taut above his head, tightly bound, knees forced wide apart, restraints hooked around his ankles. He felt horribly exposed, his body alight with shame as the finger drove insistently between his arse cheeks into his most private area. 

Helplessly bound, the shame of it gripped him. A stranger _inside_ of him, inside _that hole_ where no one else had ever touched except in his most deeply buried fantasies. Harry gritted his teeth around the soft material, as a second finger stretched him wider, scissoring in and out smoothly. He shuddered as a familiar pressure began to build between his legs. As if sensing his unwanted arousal, a firm hand snaked over his hip and down, further, stroking through coarse curls, swiping roughly at his freshly flooded cunt. Harry felt hot all over, acutely aware his cheeks were flaming. He tried to tell himself that it was simply a bodily reaction, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. 

“Merlin, you’re filthy-wet already aren’t you?” 

His face still burning, Harry felt fury rise in his throat. Those stuck-up cut-glass vowels were unmistakeable - he’d recognise them anywhere. On high alert, Harry tried to shout “Malfoy!” forgetting the gag, which effectively stifled his anger. Infuriatingly, Malfoy simply chuckled in response, evidently unconcerned about concealing his identity.

A third finger entered him, and the hand between his legs continued to explore, trailing wetness up and over the swell of his stomach, idly circling one nipple and then dipping back down to coat the other. Harry recoiled at the featherlight sensation but realised his error too late, inadvertently shifting back onto those long fingers as they drove relentlessly into him, allowing them to slip just a fraction further inside. 

Harry’s cunt throbbed in response and he held back a groan as his hips seemed to thrust forward of their own accord; he was no longer certain whether he was trying to escape Malfoy’s touch, or encourage him. Regardless, he was trapped; his too-sensitive nipples teased and his arsehole intrusively full. 

Realising how truly powerless he was to prevent Malfoy from touching him - from doing whatever he pleased - Harry drew in a harsh lungful of air, panic quivering in his chest. Even though he knew his captor’s identity, the pitch-black of the blindfold was incredibly disorienting, seeming to heighten yet also confound his senses. Confusingly, the fear and uncertainty only fuelled the intensity of the sensations stirring in him. He found himself getting wetter, breathing heavily, unable to stop the desperate whine catching in his throat. 

At the sound, both hands immediately withdrew, leaving Harry feeling oddly empty though grateful for the moment to catch his breath. The respite didn’t last long, however, as those sharp fingers trailed up his back, sliding gently over the back of his neck and tangling in Harry’s hair, blunt nails scraping his scalp. Harry leaned into the unexpectedly soothing touch. Then, Malfoy clenched around a fistful of Harry’s hair and tugged, hard, yanking his head back sharply. Startled, Harry yelped, then shuddered as Malfoy held him in place. 

Harry could feel the heat and pressure of Malfoy’s body pressed up against his back, the soft fabric of his jumper prickling his highly sensitised skin. He waited. But Malfoy simply kept his hold on Harry’s hair. Almost playfully this time, he gripped Harry by the scruff of his neck, before slipping the blindfold off. 

“I’m going to offer you a choice, Potter.”

His crotch brushing the curve of Harry’s arse, Malfoy slid down to stand in front of the bed, facing Harry. Grinning, Malfoy presented a long, smooth dildo in a garish shade of lime green. 

No fucking way, thought Harry, there’s no way in hell…

Malfoy spun round and bent to pick something up. When he turned back toward Harry his grin seemed to have stretched horribly as he jabbed a large black object in front of Harry’s face. As his eyes adjusted, blurrily, Harry’s heart dropped. It was impossibly wide at the base, and even though it tapered to a blunt point, the tip of it was still much thicker than the green dildo. 

“I’m going to put one of these up your arse, Potter, and I’m feeling generous enough to let you decide which.” 

The crude words seemed at odds with Malfoy’s clipped accent. There was obviously a catch, thought Harry, dizzily, but his head swam with fearful arousal; he couldn’t seem to form a response to Malfoy’s alarming proposition. Harry shook his head vaguely, suddenly grateful for the gag preventing him from answering. 

Malfoy sighed, and carefully placed the toys upright on the dresser behind him. He turned toward Harry, cupping his jaw tight as he unclipped the gag, warm saliva smearing Harry’s chin as it fell. 

“Well?” Malfoy asked, smirking. 

Now that he actually had the opportunity to speak, Harry felt suddenly uncertain and fell silent. He couldn’t stop looking at Malfoy’s mouth, his lips set in a satisfied grin. 

An uninvited image flared in his mind’s eye: he was naked and writhing, impaled on the dildo while Malfoy watched, his face impassive. It was mortifying. This was Malfoy, for fuck’s sake. It was also undeniably hot. And his body certainly appeared to agree, the sickening clench of his gut seemed only to intensify the ache between his thighs. Traitorously, his mind pointed out that if Malfoy’s fingers had felt good, what then might the dildo feel like? 

Flustered by this unwanted thought, Harry blurted out, “No! I – ” and trailed off as nausea curdled in his stomach – it was bad enough that Malfoy was doing these – these _things_ to him, why did he have to make Harry join in?

“Look, Malfoy, just untie me, ok?”

That was better. That had sounded firm. Very reasonable.

Malfoy simply shrugged, stepping beyond Harry’s field of vision. “Well, if you’re not bothered either way…”

At this, Harry’s brain offered up an awful image of Malfoy’s gleeful expression as he worked the huge dildo into Harry’s arse. He had been trying not to think about that option, thanks ever so. After all, the green one looked a lot more, well, _manageable_ than the …other one. The second option his mind had conveniently avoided. His buttocks squeezed shut, he couldn’t even imagine how the thick black plug would _fit_. 

Heart pounding, his mind raced frantically, yet kept looping back, stuck on the image of Malfoy’s grinning face. He couldn’t grasp at any kind of logical escape route, despite having successfully faced down much worse situations than this, and so, trying to think it through rationally, Harry decided that the best way to get this over with was to simply play along. 

“Ok fine! Fine. I’ll take the green one.” He was rather pleased, under the circumstances by how almost-steady his voice sounded. 

Malfoy’s lips twitched. “And I’m sure you’ll take it very well, Potter.”

Whirling round, Malfoy snapped open the cuffs holding Harry’s wrists above his head. He then placed a firm hand between Harry’s shoulders, pushing him down, face-first. The immediate physical relief at being able to briefly rest his aching arms on the flat of the mattress was cut short by Malfoy tugging at his hips, manoeuvring him onto all fours. 

He heard Malfoy whisper a spell, and thin invisible bonds whipped around Harry’s knees, wrists and ankles, holding him in place and spreading him apart. 

Malfoy stepped up to face Harry, gripping his chin and forcing his head up. He clearly wanted to enjoy Harry’s reaction when he said, “I don’t see why I should do all the work. No, you can fuck yourself, Potter.” 

Whatever Malfoy saw in Harry’s expression seemed to satisfy him, he waved his wand lazily, and Harry felt something cold, hard and wet nudge insistently against the cleft of his arse. He recoiled instantly, and Malfoy laughed a little to himself, letting his fingers trail softly across Harry’s cheek. 

“Go on, Potter – we made a deal, after all.”

Realising the futility of the situation, and recalling his stubborn decision to simply get this over with, Harry dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he tentatively pushed his hips backward, hole twitching, searching. His rear made contact with the blunt head of the dildo, but it was too slippery, he couldn’t get it inside. 

Malfoy stepped back, clearly enjoying Harry’s struggle. 

Frustrated, Harry angled his hips back further, but the slick plastic head slipped over his rim. Hands shaking and gripping the soft bedspread beneath him, Harry ground his teeth in concentration. Ignoring Malfoy’s smug grin, Harry slowly slid back. The next time he felt the dildo’s head against his anus, he managed to hold still, opening his hole and simultaneously pushing, finally managing to suck the smooth artificial cock inside. 

He didn’t stop until he was fully impaled, all the way to the base, and panting with the effort of it. Somewhat relieved, Harry stopped to catch his breath, tried to adjust to the stretch and burn. Malfoy, of course, was having none of it. “Move,” he ordered, “faster, fuck yourself open for me, stretch that tight little arse.”

Hanging his head, Harry obeyed, finding an awkward rhythm as he rocked his hips forward, careful not to let the tip slide out, before pushing back again. He tried not to think about how he must look, flushed and sweaty, breasts swaying with the movement of his hips. As he grew accustomed to the invasive slide of the dildo, Harry became acutely aware of the wetness slowly leaking between his thighs as he fucked back and forth, almost delirious with self-conscious arousal.

“You should see yourself, Potter, you look so greedy for it, rutting away while I’ve barely even touched you.

At Malfoy’s words, the moan he had been holding back slipped traitorously from his throat. He ached with want, clenching and squirming around the hard length snug between his cheeks, desperate to rub his clit up against something. 

“Right! Give me twenty, Potter, and faster, come on, move those hips.” Harry grimaced, but complied, digging his palms into the mattress for leverage. Harry began to count in silent anticipation - getting this over with faster was absolutely fine by him. Finally pushing back for the final thrust, Harry looked up expectantly at Malfoy, who expelled the dildo with a careless flick of his wand. Harry’s face burned as it shot out of him and dropped to the floor with a dull thud, but he was grateful at least that this embarrassing ordeal must be coming to a close – Malfoy would surely let him go now. 

The slap landed without warning, Malfoy’s palm cracking sharply against his buttock. Harry couldn’t stop a small high-pitched yelp from escaping. Then, Malfoy wrangled him into a new position, pushing between Harry’s shoulder blades until his arms collapsed and his face buried into the duvet, arse high, hole exposed. His legs were spread as wide as they would go, straining once again against invisible ropes. 

Malfoy gathered the shameful wetness between Harry’s thighs and smeared it up towards his perineum, rubbing it into his arsehole in one swift motion. Then, there was a dull pressure on his hole, steadily increasing as a slick object pressed into him, cold and too-hard, stretching him impossibly open. It was too much, there was simply no way, he was sure he couldn’t take any more, but Malfoy screwed it in deeper, pressed his palm firmly against the flat edge of plug and gave one last shove; the plug sank home. 

To Malfoy’s delight, Harry’s breath was coming in delicious little huffs of exertion, “you – you wanker, you said –”

“What’s that, hmm?” Malfoy asked, amused. 

“You made me choose!” Harry bit out. 

“And so you did – gosh, Potter, you didn’t think I meant one or the other, did you? What an unfortunate misunderstanding,” Malfoy said, with a grating faux-innocence that made Harry want to smack the smug expression off Malfoy’s pointy face. 

“You – you-”

“I,” said Malfoy, “was simply kind enough to offer you the opportunity to loosen up that greedy hole of yours before I plugged it up. And you loved it, don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“You tricked me!”

“I’m not sensing much gratitude, Potter, and after I’ve treated you so well. I think the least you could do is thank me.”

“Fuck you.”

Malfoy laughed, “No, I rather think fuck _you_ , Potter.” Malfoy struck the base of the plug with the flat of his hand, hard, and began to dispense great smacks that drove it in deep, sending confusing jolts of pleasure-pain through Harry’s body. The thick plug split him open, surging relentlessly into him with every agonising _crack_ of Malfoy’s palm. 

Gasping, Harry tried to adjust to the huge length slamming into him, face pressing wetly into the duvet, eyes streaming. He was a mess, sweaty and dripping, dizzy and trembling with the heat and strain of it. He felt hot and raw and prickly, then, just when Harry thought he might not be able to take it any longer, the blows ceased. 

Malfoy stroked his fingers gently over the rubbery base, slipping a thumb inside and crooking it over Harry’s rim, before abruptly tugging the dildo out. He slapped Harry’s arse almost lazily, humming appreciatively at the mottled flush that spread over the pale cheeks, as he kneaded and squeezed the tender flesh. 

“Try again.”

“Ahh, fuck, Malfoy,” Harry groaned in defeat. “Fuck. Th-thank you, M-Malfoy.”

“And what are you thanking me for, Potter?”

“T-thank you,” Harry gasped, “for, uh…” He hoped that repeating Malfoy’s crude words from earlier would appease him. “For… letting me, er, loosen up before the plug,” Harry managed to say, feeling utterly obscene as he forced the words out.

“Anytime, Potter.” Harry hated himself just a little, for the way his body ached in response to the way Malfoy spat out his surname. His hips juddered uselessly, fucking his cunt into the air as he waited for whatever was next in store, having abandoned the illusion that Malfoy was anywhere near finished with him. 

A forceful rap at the door startled Harry - his head shot up in horror, and he tried in vain to bring his thighs together, but the invisible ropes held sure. Without waiting for a response, Pansy and Blaise strode in, appearing unconcerned at finding Harry Potter, face-down and arse-up in Draco Malfoy’s bed. 

“Draco! What have you been up to?” Pansy said, conversationally. “You’ve been holed up in here for absolutely ages. We’re terribly bored and thought we’d come and see what you were doing.”

“So to speak,” Blaise interjected, with an amused tone. 

“Come in, make yourselves at home,” Draco offered cheerfully, to Harry’s dismay. “The more the merrier, eh, Potter?”

Harry felt hot and exposed under their scrutiny of his spread thighs and sore arse. Malfoy pulled Harry’s cheeks even further apart, holding him open for their inspection. Harry cringed into the duvet, feeling lube ooze slowly out of his hole and begin to trickle down his thighs. “He’s pretty loosened up,” Malfoy said, tapping Harry’s arsehole. It twitched at the sensation, and they laughed.

“Look, Blaise, his little asshole is winking,” said Pansy in delight, sending a jolt through Harry’s chest. Arousal and embarrassment were beginning to feel one and the same, he realised, he could no longer quite tell the difference. And yet, Harry couldn’t deny that he was dripping wet and aching, as Malfoy then launched into a humiliating description of the evening’s activities, “…Merlin, you should’ve seen his _face_ … and these bouncing little tits he’s got…”

“Mind you, they’re feeling neglected now I bet – not to mention his hot, wet little cunt, you should see the way it leaks from just a few fingers up the arse. Go on – grab a handful—“

At this, Harry burrowed his face deeper, not wanting to witness which of the Slytherins were now groping at his breasts, fingering and squeezing as instructed. 

“Gosh his clit’s huge, feel it, it’s getting stiff just like a prick!” Harry groaned helplessly, and tried to close his legs to stop Pansy’s sharp, prying fingers as they teased the aching nub of flesh. “And he’s positively dripping,” drawled Blaise, reaching down to join Pansy. “Gagging for it, I’d say.”

“Potty really must love taking it up the arse – or does he just love _you_ taking his arse?” Pansy sniggered. 

“I’m not – I don’t - ” Harry’s weak protestations were cut off by a sharp, wet slap across his swollen cunt. His hips bounced involuntarily, an embarrassingly breathy moan seeming to contradict whatever he’d been about to say. 

Malfoy hauled Harry up onto his feet, and made a little tapping motion with his wand, so that Harry’s arms were immediately restrained behind his back. Harry’s chest heaved as he thrashed weakly. 

“That’s right, push those tits out, Potter!” Blaise called out encouragingly, from his sprawled-out position on the plush chaise longue at the foot of Malfoy’s bed. Red heat pricked Harry’s cheeks. His breasts were indeed thrust forward unnaturally, nipples beginning to harden under Malfoy’s lascivious gaze. Harry tripped backward, ungainly, as Malfoy reached for him. Stumbling away from Malfoy’s grabbing hands, Harry didn’t notice Pansy moving silently behind him until it was too late and her arms had closed around him, tight and unyielding. 

Malfoy played with Harry’s nipples, feeling them stiffen as he pinched and rolled the sensitive flesh into hardness. 

“You do blush and moan so prettily, Potter, anyone would think you wanted this.”

Harry made a sound of protest, but Pansy sneaked her hand around his hip to fondle his soaked slit. “Feels like you want it. Still wet, after all, aren’t you Potty?”

Harry looked wrecked, shaking his head even as his hips seemed to move of their own volition, seeking out Pansy’s teasing fingers as they flitted across his aching cunt, dipping into his wetness but refusing him the pressure he craved. Malfoy leant in to watch, flicking Harry’s nipples idly. Looking satisfied with every flinch he elicited, Malfoy kept going, tweaking and tormenting Harry who looked feverish now, sweat sticking to his forehead, little moans accompanying every exhale. 

Malfoy glanced at Pansy questioningly; she nodded in return. Harry remained oblivious to their exchange, his eyes closed to escape their scorn. An almost unbearable intensity was spreading through him, heat building at the base of his spine. He felt horribly, wonderfully close to orgasm, desperate to just let go, to give in to the sensation. Pansy dipped lower, tapping Harry’s sweat-slicked thigh, murmuring in his ear, “spread ‘em, Potter.” 

Dizzy with overstimulation, Harry could barely comprehend her words. He stared at Draco, only dimly aware that he was supposed to do something. Pansy didn’t want to wait – her impatient fingers clamped around Harry’s clit, pinching hard. 

“Do it,” she ordered. Malfoy stepped back a little, looking on intently as Harry jerked his legs apart. Watching Harry wince and writhe, caught between pain and pleasure, close to coming apart. Catching Pansy’s sly grin as she nipped mercilessly at the bundle of nerves, trapping it between her nails. Inspired, Malfoy twisted Harry’s nipples ruthlessly, once, twice, before cracking his palm across Harry’s left breast, first, and then the right. Harry’s mouth opened in a silent cry of raw surprise. 

They alternated then, working in tandem and not allowing Harry a moment of respite. Malfoy tugged and flicked Harry’s nipples again and again, as Pansy delivered little smacks to his inflamed vulva. Then, Pansy cruelly squeezed Harry’s tender clit while Malfoy started spanking his tits in earnest, the two of them finding a rough-and-ready rhythm that had Harry trembling miserably, helpless with desire. They spent a while slapping at him, Harry’s cunt slanting up to meet Pansy’s sticky-slick palm, the most deliciously wet smacking sounds reverberating throughout the dorm. Malfoy switched it up between harsh blows that made Harry’s breasts lurch and sway with the force of them, and little stinging taps that made him exhale hard as he tried not to cry out too loudly or too often.

“See his little tits, Pans,” Malfoy said with satisfaction, “look at them shake, yeah?” 

“Mmm, and he’s still sopping – looks like fingering his arse isn’t the only thing that makes him gush.”

They eyed each other and grinned, both pinching Harry’s flesh at the same time, his tits and clit seized, vice-like until they finally wrenched a full-blown sob out of him. 

“Proper hard and wet, he is, rutting into my hand like a right little slag,” Pansy laughed. Humiliation coursed through Harry at hearing them discuss his reactions, as though he wasn’t even in the room. “He wants it, all right,” she continued, wiping her hand off on Harry’s thigh, before shoving him towards Malfoy, who steadied Harry on his feet, gripping his shoulders firmly. Harry could barely look him in the face, as he tried to take in what Malfoy proposed next. 

“Another choice for you to make – oh, it’s a real one this time, don’t look at me like that Potter,” Malfoy gave a low laugh, leaning in close, lips brushing Harry’s ear as he spoke. 

“I can let you go – you can run on back to your dorm and rub yourself off all night – bet that would feel good, yeah? You’d have your hand stuck between your legs the second you were outside the door.” Harry shuddered, partly in response to Malfoy’s distracting proximity, but primarily at the awful realisation that he was no longer leaping at the chance of escape he’d been so desperate for earlier. 

“Or,” Malfoy continued, in a low, urgent voice, “you can bend yourself nicely over my bed, get your sore arse right up in the air and spread your legs wide for me. If you put on a good show for Blaise and Pansy, maybe we’ll find something for you to grind your pretty little clit up against before we send you packing.” 

Harry started as Malfoy drew back, reached for his wand and accio’d the green dildo. He tapped the base twice with his wand, and thin straps emerged, twisting and coiling, finally taking the shape of a harness. Malfoy gracefully stepped out of his smart black wool skirt and underwear, slipping the harness over his slim hips. As Malfoy shifted the dildo into position, Harry couldn’t help but stare, his lips parting, as he caught a tantalising glimpse of the blonde curls between Malfoy’s thighs. Immobile, Harry stood, eyes fixed on Malfoy’s movements. Another quick tap and a whispered incantation, and Harry watched in astonishment as the thin straps of the harness appear to dissolve into Malfoy’s flesh and the dildo paled to correspond with Malfoy’s fair skin. Still wearing his loosely-fitted school shirt, tie crooked, smirk firmly in place and one hand on hip, it now appeared that Malfoy had a long, thin prick jutting out in front of him. Harry gaped – his magical education had thus far not included anything quite like this. 

“Door’s open, Potter. Or you can go wait on the bed. The choice is yours,” he said, turning his back on Harry.

Although escape played out in Harry’s mind – he could do exactly as Malfoy suggested, in this state it would barely take a minute to get himself off, not to mention the relief of getting away from the jeering Slytherin trio – Harry knew, to his horror, what he wanted. Whether he could admit it or not was another issue altogether. His brain was a whirlwind of shame and confusion, he knew his stinging breasts and aching groin were likely clouding his judgement, yet Harry couldn’t help in this moment of vulnerability but admit, if only to himself, that he wanted Malfoy to fuck him properly, wanted Malfoy’s hands all over his body, not to soothe the hurt, but to make him feel it. 

Shakily, Harry stepped forward, emphatically not looking at Pansy and Blaise, their heads bent close together as they shared a joke. Probably at his expense, Harry thought, as he approached the bed, unsure how to follow Malfoy’s instructions with his hands still tied uncomfortably behind his back. They didn’t even glance at him, as he awkwardly heaved himself onto the bed, waiting, against his better judgement, for Malfoy to return. 

“Where do you want me?”

“Wha-” 

“It’s a simple question, Harry, do you want me to fuck your arse raw, or would you prefer I fuck into your pretty cunt?”

Oh. _Oh._ This Harry wanted to admit to himself even less. He gave a desperate little moan at the filthy words. 

“Tell me.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hoping Malfoy might not press the issue. Of course, that would be a bit uncharacteristic, Harry thought, and sure enough:

“The door’s still open, if you’ve changed your mind?” 

“I-I want you in my arse,” Harry wrenched out, feeling hot all over. 

“All you had to do was say so, Harry,” Malfoy said, almost gently, as he pushed his slick cock roughly inside. Harry arched his back as Malfoy slammed in deep and grunted, digging his fingers into Harry’s hips, hard enough to bruise. He spread Harry’s cheeks wide, watching his fake cock fucking in and out of Harry’s sore hole. Helplessly, Harry groaned, letting out breathless little huffs with every thrust. The fucking was thorough and relentless, the steady momentum pressing Harry’s face into the mattress again and again. Harry trembled, suddenly agitated, his chest tight, his body invaded by Malfoy’s cock. 

Malfoy let go of Harry’s hips, in favour of cupping his tits again, weighing them in his hands, rubbing and playing as Harry breathed out a heavy moan. Malfoy’s punishing rhythm grew suddenly erratic as he frenziedly thrust against Harry’s arse, finally coming with a groan. Harry felt the cock pulse inside of him, as Malfoy stilled. 

“P-please, I n-need,” Harry stuttered, unsure what he was even asking for. “Oh Harry,” Malfoy said, fondly, yanking a firm pillow under Harry’s hips, grabbing and shoving Harry flat onto the bed. He sat back on his heels, so the head of his cock caught on Harry’s rim. 

“You can get yourself off now.”

Harry sobbed into the duvet, writhing shamelessly. Grinding with abandon, Harry clenched desperately as he rode out the white-hot shudders of his orgasm, rocking against the pillow and clamping down on the tip of Draco’s cock. 

“That’s it, pet,” said Draco soothingly. He drove into Harry one last time, pelvis flush against Harry’s arse. With a groan, Draco reached between his thighs, found his own slick clit and stroked frantically, bringing himself off for the second time with a quick shudder. Satisfied, Draco gave the base of the dildo two quick taps, synthetic flesh reverting to hard plastic. He left it stuffed in Harry’s arse, and sat back.

“Want this out, Potter?” Draco asked, almost kindly. Exhausted and sore, Harry nodded weakly. Yanking Harry’s arse up, Draco laughed, “spit it out then.” 

“You want me to…” Harry trailed off, confused. 

“I want,” Malfoy said, “to watch you push it out.”

Two sharp slaps punctuated Malfoy’s words, as he hammered it home once more, laughing at Harry’s strained groan. Of all the demeaning things Malfoy had done to him, Harry felt this was perhaps the most degrading. And yet, he complied almost unthinkingly, beginning to bear down experimentally. He was so loose now, scissored open by Malfoy’s cruel fingers, forced to stretch himself on the long dildo, plugged up and then fucked hard. 

Squeezing his anal muscles, pushing down and arching his back slightly, he was met with an initial resistance – Malfoy had lodged it deeply - but then without warning the dildo slopped out of him with a mortifying squelch, leaving him shuddering and empty, arse contracting around air. 

Malfoy admired Harry’s abused hole, calling over to Pansy and Blaise again, “you must see this, look, it’s gone all pink and puffy…”

“You’ve ruined him, Draco!” Blaise marvelled, prodding at the sensitive flesh. “And what, you’ve not even had a go yet at his cunthole?”

“Well, I did plan on it to be honest with you, but he just loves it up the arse so much – don't you Potter?” Malfoy said, with an affectionate slap to Harry’s thigh, “and who am I to deny the Golden Boy what he wants?”

Despite the embarrassment that he thought must surely be permanently lodged in his chest, Harry felt a curl of anticipation low in his belly at the thought of Malfoy fucking him again. Of Malfoy doing anything to him, really, if he was honest. Post-orgasm, his arse was sore, yet his wet cunt felt needy, clenching, desperate to be filled up…

“Maybe next time, eh, Potter?”


End file.
